Drifter Mage

by PMF Johnson

  "Headed out to find your female," Ulf sneered. He seemed to find pleasure in baiting Deeb. "Doesn't really matter if she's Arch's or not, I'd say. If she is, he's doomed. If she ain't, why, he'll just scoop her up without interference, right?"

  There was nothing he could say that would help anything. He had to bide his time. He turned away as though it were all the same to him. But his gaze went everywhere, hunting for something, anything, to give him an edge, a chance to escape.

  Ulf laughed at him. "Like that cat I stuck in glue, one time. Bit off his own leg to get away. You ain't going anywhere, pilgrim."

  Rock mounted up. He headed out the way Deeb had come in, reading the sign on the ground from his place in the saddle.

  Shef's eyes roved the camp. "We're missing the Owl."

  Shef was acting restless, like he wanted to be somewhere else -- like he was supposed to be somewhere else. Deeb hoped he did take off, if it came to that. He wondered what happened to make Shef act differently like this.

  The Preacher answered. "He's a will-o-the-wisp. Here, then gone. Who understands him? Not me."

  But the Preacher had something on his mind, wouldn't let it go. "That Rock now, he's gonna take the woman for himself, but what if she has jewelry, or whatsoever? We should share the spoils."

  Ulf sneered. "Don't like the guy? You got magic same as the rest of us. Use one of your precious wildcats to ambush him."

  The Preacher looked away. "Someone's gonna do it. Don't have to be me. Anyway, he's useful to have around. He's handy with that elven magic, and gives Arch someone to focus on that ain't me."

  Ulf grinned a rattlesnake smile. "Shef here thinks he can stand up to elven magic. Thinks his will is as strong as anyone's. Might like to face off against Rock and prove it."

  Shef shook his head. "Not interested. Get yourself another hero. He's someone else's problem, not mine."

  Deeb was barely listening. He had no time for their casual evil, he had to figure a way out of this. Then his eye was caught by the faintest flutter of silver.

  A whirligig floated over the clearing. Galle was here.

  Deeb went instantly to ice -- if they caught Galle, even suspected he was around...

  Chapter Twenty

  Deeb had to get these thugs moving. He could do nothing for his wife where he was. The only weapon he had available was his mouth, so he started to use it.

  "I'm curious how this works. Rock gets everything and you folks get nothing on this one, is that it? You just wait for him to get back when he's through? Nothing for the rest of you. If you just sit here that's what you'll get."

  Deeb's comment got the Preacher to rise to his feet and start pacing.

  Deeb watched him, and kept talking. "Not that I have anything. But do you believe me when I say that? That my wife has nothing, either? You'll have to trust that Rock person to be honest. Is he?"

  "Quiet you," said Ulf. But he looked at the Preacher. "You're the leader. You said we was all in this as a team."

  "Not sure I want to bother Rock right about now."

  "And if my wife has gems sewn into her clothes for emergencies?" Deeb said, playing it for all he was worth. "He'll find them and share them with you."

  "Gems?" Ulf's head snapped around. He glared at Deeb.

  "A woman's things. Women like baubles, to look pretty."

  "Ain't no gems. You're lyin'."

  Deeb nodded agreeably. "And you'll find out anyway. Rock'll tell you. Isn't that how you operate, as a team?"

  "Shut up, you," the Preacher said.

  "Show us these gems," Ulf said.

  "I can't. I'm here with you."

  "You show us those gems, we'll let you go." Ulf's tone was so perfunctory that even in Deeb's desperate circumstances he could not believe the man. But he had to get to his wife if he was to have any chance of protecting her, so he would play along for that long, anyway.

  "Deal," he said.

  "Rock said stay here," the Preacher pointed out, uneasily.

  Ulf turned on him. "So he's boss and we do what he says and he gets it all and we get nothing? Flames burn that."

  Shef spoke up in support of his brother. "So much for you being the leader then, huh? I'm for going there now. All of us. The pilgrim too."

  At last, the Preacher grunted, maybe an assent.

  Ulf and Shef grabbed Deeb, released his legs so he could sit on a horse and got him mounted up. Despite being close to the woods, Deeb was so cramped up he had little chance to make a break for it.

  The thugs went to saddle up. As they did, Deeb felt a tug on the ropes that bound him, and glimpsed a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye.

  At first he did not understand. Another tug followed, along with a very faint buzzing. It was a whirligig, right behind him, almost touching him.

  Deeb was alarmed at being so close to one -- what was it after? Another tug at his bonds. Then through an opening in the woods, he saw the face of his son.

  Galle had snuck up and was somehow directing the whirligig to use the razor-sharp ridge that spiraled around its body on his bonds, trying to cut him free. From Galle's behavior, he evidently had to keep a line-of-sight open to Deeb to direct the creature.

  Deeb dared not move, dared not even breath a warning, the thugs were so close. The Preacher was already mounted, the others nearly so. The sweat of fear beaded on Deeb's face. If the thugs spotted his son they would kill him. Such a fool Galle was, such a brave fool, his dear child.

  Galle was behind a tree, inside the covering branches of a bush, but still so vulnerable. They would slaughter him if they saw him.

  Shef was the first to turn. "Right, pilgrim. Let's go find your wife and Rock Gul."

  He grabbed Deeb's horse and led it to a position among them. Deeb did not dare to look back to see if Galle was hidden. The riders fell in line, Deeb in the middle, and they rode off. How much had the whirligig cut? Surreptitiously, Deeb tried his bonds.

  Were they nearly cut through? Would they part at a hard tug? He almost yanked at them, thinking to spur his horse and flee, but he held himself back. He would not succeed, he knew that. But the bonds were certainly looser -- he could feel by the pins-and-needles that some circulation was returning to his hands.

  #

  Arch Compher came out of his nap silently, instantly. Daylight had come. First he tried to hear any out-of-place sounds. His horse Silvio cropped peacefully at the grass. So, no close threats.

  He rose out of his spot in a swift, smooth move, coming up near the bole of a tree, his figure blending into its own, making him less visible.

  He took up his staff from where it had been recharging in the rich soil. It had reached full capacity. He cared for his horse, combing it free of burrs, checking its hooves, feeding it a carefully preserved apple as a morning treat.

  He felt foul, on edge. He did not care for being chased around like this. He could hope thugs had given up and taken off. At that moment, the sound of a rider came to him.

  To his left, he saw Rock riding with purpose, headed uphill. Rock...without the others? Why? The man was headed in a direction that would lead him past the Partens' stock.

  Arch saddled his horse in moments and went riding after the man, but staying far enough back and to one side that he would not be easily spotted in the woods.

  Arch had heard plenty about Rock -- the man was as cruel as they came, his elven heritage making him look down on mortal folk. He had no compassion, sympathy or anything resembling kindness in him. His sheer power of will, learned over centuries, would overwhelm mortals who opposed him.

  Physically, he towered over his companions -- a height typical of the elven race -- with a strength few could oppose, and his wings gave him tremendous agility. All that, combined with his lust for cruelty, meant folks avoided him whenever possible.

  Arch himself had been surrounded by magic, using it, living with it, avoiding its dangers and leveraging its strengths his whole life. He had spent a great deal of the time actually
in the Magic, a Well of changeable power in the Wilderlands hundreds of day's ride in any direction, and subject to sudden shifts and changes in its underlying reality. Perhaps being caught up in those shifts had changed Arch himself -- certainly he was extremely quick and unusually sensitive to his surroundings.

  Arch had a natural inclination for understanding and being at one with the strange environment, coming to understand its rhythms and moods -- a trait that allowed him an almost uncanny knack for handling magic. Not only the elemental magic of earth, air, fire and water that was so integral to humans and their history, but even the very essence of magic that imbued the world -- the Blood of Luwana, some said, spilled at Her dying, seeding the whole world with magic, and from magic, life.

  Arch did not value a reputation as a war mage -- he had never sought out any sort of fame, but magic was an essential part of his world and like all others out here he used it, lived with it, and worked to understand it as best he could for his own safety and betterment. Magic made up his world. But as for being skilled in the ways of the Wilderlands, hunting, passing unseen while seeing others, he had thought himself as good as anyone.

  So to have the Owl come up on him undiscovered, and then to do so a second time, that bothered him a great deal -- it was a threat to his life.

  Honestly, a great deal of tracking people was simply coming to understand them -- how they moved, why, with what habits. Arch worked constantly to be unpredictable, not a creature of habit and therefore vulnerable to ambush. But the Owl so far was outthinking him.

  Once more he paused, back in the trees, taking in his surroundings, cautious of everything. Waiting thus, he saw movement coming up from behind. He held utterly motionless -- it was the rest of the thugs coming along, led by the Preacher, with Shef and Ulf just behind, and back of that Deeb, his hands bound behind him, sitting on a horse he was guiding with only his legs. The goblen conjuror Dunshil brought up the rear, her imp trailing along behind like a pale flower in an unearthly breeze.

  Arch watched as they passed, but what concerned him most was the absence of the Owl in their ranks. Where was the man? Was he an outrider? Arch kept his eyes and ears open, waiting for some movement, some clue -- he was certain the next time the Owl and he clashed, one or the other must perish.

  Sure enough, he spotted the shifting of a branch back into place. Slowly, he raised his staff, ready for whoever it was -- certain this was no animal. Almost as a whisper, he said the preparatory word of the spell, needing only the trigger word to shoot off a fireball, engulf his enemy.

  He felt the kick of confidence that came from embracing war magic, but he would not fire without knowing what he was aiming at. It was a danger of elemental magic, overconfidence leading to arrogance. Countless mages had died from such overconfidence. He did not intend to be one of them. He watched, ready.

  A flash of metal, then someone raced through a clearing. Too short for the Owl. Galle! A pair of whirligigs floated above him. Somehow the boy must have called them.

  Arch headed toward the boy, keeping most of his attention on the woods around them.

  "Galle," he said, and the boy spotted him and hurried over. "You left your mother somewhere?"

  "I know where she is." He waved. "She's at the bald knob stone on the hill. They're going that way, but I had one of the whirligigs work on Pa's ropes."

  He pointed to the creatures floating in the air, up in the trees, somehow reflecting the color of the trees now, and so nearly invisible. "It almost cut him free, but I couldn't quite get it to understand well enough."

  "We better get back to your mother," Arch said.

  Arch lifted Galle up onto the horse, settling the boy behind Arch. Then he set off at a swift canter, keeping his staff ready, alert for the Owl.

  Once they climbed up the spine of the ridge behind the house, he turned aside, found a place where two stones thrust up out of the soil and leaned against each other, providing almost a stone lean-to. He set Galle down.

  "You wait here."

  "I have to help my Ma and Pa," Galle said.

  But Arch was dismounting. "I need you to stay here with my horse. There's going to be war magic. It's not fun and games, Galle."

  "But my folks are there."

  "I'll be back with your parents, but you have to be patient a little while," Arch said. "Stay here, Galle."

  The whirligigs buzzed angrily, and the boy looked sullen, but Arch could spare him no more time. He headed off along the ridge, raising his staff in readiness, hearing conversation ahead. He eased through the brush until he could see into a clearing before him.

  The Preacher had led the others here only moments ago, and Rock looked furious. Arch stayed a short ways off, in concealment, assessing the situation.

  Mara Parten stood with her back against a knob of rock, facing the men, so they could not get in around behind her. Her expression was fierce, like a wolf surrounded by hounds, and her wand pointed straight at Rock's chest.

  "We thought you could use our assistance," the Preacher said. "Us being a team and all." He raised his hand and out of the woods paced a cougar, long, sleek, deadly. It walked up beside him.

  "And that's what all of you thought? You too, Shef?" Rock had a snarl on his face.

  "We all agreed to work together," Shef said. "What one finds, we all share. That's how we said it. You get the woman, we get any money she's got."

  Rock's wings were flared out as though to pounce, and his hands were clenched in fists of rage. The cords of this thick muscles stood out on his forearms. His chest was deep, his eyes cold as a whole winter's hate.

  Dunshil stood slightly to one side, where her imp confronted Lok. The two imps looked to match up evenly, though Lok would be in a protective mode, and would likely not move to attack.

  Deeb's horse was a bit fidgety, and shifted a step closer to the Preacher. Arch saw as much -- had Deeb worked free of his bonds? If so, he could launch himself into the Preacher, engage him. But what of Shef, Ulf, Dunshil and Rock? Of course, Mara had not wavered in focusing on Rock.

  It was mighty thin odds, and Rock very well might overcome her with his will magic. But if he tried, he might not clamp down on her in time to prevent her triggering her wand, and he would die.

  Arch could only assume he had already tried to overcome her, and had not yet succeeded.

  "Set down that wand or we'll start burning your husband," Rock told her. "You know I am more powerful than he. You have discarded him already. But if you require proof before you accept me, I shall destroy him."

  "Give that command and you'll never give another," she answered fiercely. "I'll burn you to Flames."

  By her face, they all knew she meant it.

  "Mr. Gul, you are tall, ugly and mighty easy to hit. And I really don't care for you at all."

  "So I must conquer you as well?" Rock looked intrigued. "A worthy challenge."

  The Owl was still missing. Where did he go?

  Arch's gaze moved steadily, searching, but he found no clue to where the man was.

  The two sides in the clearing were balanced, so Arch stayed in reserve, not wanting to reveal himself while the Owl remained unaccounted for.

  "Mr. Gul, you must leave now and take your companions with you. My husband will be staying here with me." She indicated Deeb, still sitting on his horse amongst them.

  But the thugs made no response to her, knowing that she could not drive them away single-handedly. Without any backup, she must waver at some point, her hand wobble, and then the Rock could strike with his will, freeze her in place and take the wand away.

  That they did not leave seemed to take her by surprise.

  "Go," she said in a strained tone. "Or I'll hit you with a fireball."

  The Preacher chuckled, enjoying this. The wand was not aimed his way, after all. "You're going to have to lower your wand sooner or later. You may hit Rock here, but how about the rest of us. And I'll trade you. You blast Rock and my cat here will rip out your husband's throa
t. That'll work out fine as far as I'm concerned. No, your best bet is to put down the wand and just go along willingly. After all, Rock there wants you alive to have his kid. You're gonna survive."

  Would Mara agree?

  It was never to be known.

  Galle stepped into the clearing, and pointed. "Get them." Two whirligigs slashed down out of the sky.

  A mother, Mara could not help glancing at her son. The moment she did, Rock dove out of the line of fire and gestured at her, crying the trigger word of a spell that lashed out and froze her in place.

  Deeb snapped the ropes binding him as he thumped his heels into his horse. It jumped unexpectedly, jostling the Preacher's mount, which itself bumped into the brothers' mounts. Those two crow-hopped out of the way.

  Deeb grabbed the Preacher and yanked at him. They fell to the ground together, struggling.

  The whirligigs slashed into the Preacher's cougar, driving the creature back. One whirligig chased away the big cat while the other turned to Dunshil. The goblen could not protect against it with her own imp engaged against Lok. The whirligig struck her. The goblen cried out and collapsed.

  The whirligig clung to Dunshil, and she began to turn silver. Her own imp, suddenly freed, vanished like a soap bubble popping.

  Lok hesitated -- the imp was not under any immediate command, but he had been a companion of the family a long time and recognized the threat. He attacked Rock.

  Arch shot a fire seed at the Menesketh brothers, but missed. The seed exploded harmlessly into a fireball at the far side of the clearing. Ulf fired wildly back, but his staff was halfway up to the sky, and his spell flamed out high above them. He spurred his horse and fled.

  Rock had to turn his will against the imp to hold it off, but this freed Mara.

  She pointed her wand at Rock, but he put Lok between them and she had no clear line of fire. Rock triumphantly darted around the imp and grabbed her wand. She held onto it doggedly, crying out, but Rock continued to rotate in a huge circle like a stone thrower, flinging her free and tearing the wand from her hand to fall on the grass.

  Arch spoke another spell word, triggering a fire seed at Rock, but the man was aware of Arch and threw himself aside, the fireball singeing him as it exploded. His concentration was so good that even with this Lok remained held in place, unable to attack. Mara grabbed for the wand, coming up with it.